


2371 - Time Is Neither Linear Nor Fair

by stellations



Series: Longevity of the Stars [1]
Category: Sanctuary (TV), Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Child Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6926836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellations/pseuds/stellations





	2371 - Time Is Neither Linear Nor Fair

"Dammit, we had it!"

"Try again, try again!"

"We're losing containment! This isn't a psych-worm, Magnus! Whoever tipped you off was dead wro-"

The reports kept coming through the secure comm link, over and over as Helen ran through the trees. Nikola was just ahead of her and she suspected the only reason he hadn't beaten her there was the simple fact that he wanted to be sure she was still with him. He could outrun her in a heartbeat, but he never did; he always kept his abilities within her limitations. That was how they worked after so long a time together. 

With everyone's words ringing out in her ears and a couple of screams in the distance, Helen willed her legs to move faster. Sometimes she felt her full age of 634, as though the weight of her life was holding her back like the old woman she was. Now was definitely one of those times. If only she could run like she was 36 again.

She dodged trees and vines and all manner of greenery until she came to the edge of the vegetation. Nikola had already stopped by the time she got there and he held out an arm as though to keep her back. From what, she wondered. She slowed and pushed past him so she stood outside the reach of the vineyard. And there she saw what Nikola had wanted to hold her back from, its gaping orange glow like a beacon in the morning sky. The flames turned over and over, licking at the large house before threatening to turn to the rest of the vineyard.

 _"What the bloody hell is that thing?"_ someone shouted through the comm.

"It's a Tunisian Fire Elemental, you idiot, so you'll need to get that containment field up and running _now_ or else this entire countryside will turn into its own personal feeding ground," she heard Nikola say beside her and she could almost feel his eyes on her as he answered. He knew that as soon as she spotted the elemental, the flashbacks would take her. That was why he had wanted her to stay back. He wanted to spare her something no one else could understand.

"Get that up, Zimmerman! _Now_!"

All she could see was the fire. Blonde hair disappearing in a cloud of embers. James' arms snaking around her body as they clung to each other and watched the Fire Elemental be buried under the ground. Activating the device in Carentan while knowing full well that if it worked, they would be killing an entire city's population. 

One word kept coming back in her mind.

Carentan.

Over and over.

Carentan.

She had buried a Tunisian Fire Elemental on June 6, 1944. 

Carentan.

What if this was the same one? It could have been buried far enough that it fed on the geothermal energy underneath the earth and then somehow chewed through the earth before getting shoved up to the surface here in La Barre. At this point it wouldn't surprise her. But if she were right about that, then this elemental and everything that followed would be entirely her fault.

And she knew Nikola was aware that she would blame herself if she came to that realization. 

"Helen!" he yelled, moving in front of her and placing his hands on her upper arms to steal her attention. It was a good move as it very thoroughly distracted her, drawing her focus away. "The team has this in hand. We need to get back to the nearest charter and get the hell out of here before they call in Starfleet. We don't want to be here if they do."

He was right; she knew he was. So far, the Sanctuary had kept out of Starfleet's and, by extension, the Federation's way. But it was still difficult to tear herself away from the sight. What if this was actually her fault?

She could hear someone screaming in the background, a woman. In hysterics. Something about a man and baby inside. Her baby. A child.

It hit Helen like someone had just put a fist through her stomach. She could see the Cabal Super-Abnormals again. Ashley's image flashed through her mind, all raw power and unhinged vampire brawn. Helen's head shook, her body trembled.

"Helen!"

If Nikola hadn't been there, Helen wasn't so sure she could have made it out. For no one else would she move. Back into the vineyard's grasp they went, as the comm rattled on about containment and successful captures. Helen didn't pay any attention to that. Instead, she gripped Nikola's hand, her fingers wrapped so tightly around his that she knew it would bruise were he human. She needed something, some _one_ to ground her in the present or she would lose herself in the past. In regrets.

 _Nos must amitto vivo en_. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and vowed that she would return to the vineyard. Not today. Not tomorrow. Perhaps not next week. But soon. She owed it to the grieving woman to try.

***

She didn't manage to make it back for five days. As much as she tried to hurry, it took that long for everything to settle and she knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to overwhelm the poor woman too quickly.

The woman, Marie Picard, had been moved to a little Bed & Breakfast down in the village while her home was rebuilt. But no one knew better than Helen how long it would take her to rebuild her life. Nearly 400 years had passed since Helen had lost her own child, but not a day went by that she didn't, in some capacity, feel that loss. This would be one of the most difficult encounters of her life, but she knew it was necessary. It would help both grieving women. 

Things would have been very different for Helen if someone who _understood_ had been there for her. She didn't want this bitterness for Marie.

So she turned up at a time when she had heard -- from reliable sources, of course -- that Marie would be downstairs in the common area. No one else was there today, so Helen could approach without fear. And even though she greeted the owner in perfect French, she didn't adopt another accent or pretend to be anything but British. She had tea and crumpets in a basket, after all. There was no need to pretend with that around.

"Pardon me," she began, "I don't mean to interrupt, but I was hoping you could tell me where I might be able to find Marie Picard?"

Lady Mardrin eyed her suspiciously, no doubt because Marie Picard would have been seeing a lot of people and might not necessarily wish to see more. Helen could hardly blame her; she remembers well what she was like after Ashley died, even so many centuries later. Life had barely seemed worth living. Losing James and Ashley in such quick succession, with James having been as close to a husband -- or amiable ex, as it somehow was -- and Ashley being their daughter, had seemed unbearable for Helen. So much so that she had done her best to find a way to shorten her longevity, only ending her quest after a terrible vision showed her the end of the world.

A very literal zombie apocalypse was not how she wanted to go out. For one thing, it was hardly creative enough a solution. For another, she would never take anyone else out with her, let alone the entire world. She spent her life helping and saving lives, not ending them. So she understood well what Marie was going through after having lost both her husband and her son.

Helen's smile turned apologetic as she lifted her basket just so. "I've something small I wanted to give her. I won't be long."

Lady Mardrin inclined her head towards the fireplace and Helen glanced over, fully aware that she would be watching just to make sure Helen didn't antagonize the poor Mrs. Picard. Helen's steps were measured, careful, and her smile tight as she approached the woman she knew to be Marie Picard.

"I apologize for bothering you," she spoke in perfect French, clearly surprising Marie. With the Federation's universal translators available, the ability to speak multiple languages had fallen somewhat along the lines of the telegraph and many other outdated abilities that Helen still held value to. The telegraph at least reminded her of James. "May I?" She motioned towards the empty chair on the other side of the fireplace.

Marie hesitated and then nodded. Feeling that this could be going far worse, Helen lowered herself into the chair, opening the basket. It would not be an easy conversation for either of them. Helen never spoke of Ashley these days. Not to just anyone.

"Tea?" she asked, pulling out two thermoses full of hot water. Setting the basket on a table nearby, she brought out sachets of tea and motioned for Marie to help herself to the basket. "I've crumpets and biscuits inside. It's all rather British, though I promise it will all pass a tricorder test."

Helen offered a small smile as Marie let out a soft laugh at the obvious joke. At least the woman _could_ laugh, even slightly.

"Thank you," Marie managed softly, picking out a crumpet as Helen set the tea sachets in to steep. "What sort of tea is that? I don't recognize the smell."

"It's an herbal blend a friend of mine showed me," Helen answered, playing the game she was best at: word play. "Imported. Preferred for its stabilizing effects on emotional states." She paused to glance sympathetically at Marie. "I thought we both could use it."

That much was true at least, but even bringing this specific tea had its drawbacks. Ranna Seneschal had introduced her to it upon their return from the adventure in saving Kanaan and, of course, thinking of Ranna and Praxis made Helen think of her father. It was a snowball effect, an avalanche of emotion.

Perhaps this tea had been the best choice for her as well.

"This is all very kind of you to do for a stranger. I don't even know your name."

"Helen," she offered slowly. "Helen Magnus." She paused again, briefly glancing down at the thermos resting between her legs. "I thought, in light of your recent tragedy, you could use someone who understood. When I lost my daughter--" Her voice cracked with the weight of her still very real sorrow and guilt. She glanced away again, this time towards the fire, licking and eating the air around them, reminding Helen of the fire that took Marie's family and the burst of embers that took Ashley. She inhaled deeply and continued forward, slowly, making each measured word count. "When I lost my daughter, I was inconsolable. I remember days, weeks, months of trying to ignore it and pretend it was all a dream. Months of feeling that the light of my life had been snuffed out."

When she finally glanced back at Marie and managed a small, tight-lipped smile, she could see the tears pricking the edges of her eyes were reflected in Marie's.

"I didn't want that for you. I wanted you to know that you are not alone in this."

For a few moments, neither woman moved. Then Marie offered a very soft, "Thank you," as Helen removed the sachets and everything seemed to freeze in that moment. Neither woman spoke for a long while. They simply watched the fire, drank tea, ate crumpets and biscuits, and enjoyed each other's company.

Nothing more was needed.


End file.
